


The Moon And I

by AkiRah



Category: Brick (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3607788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiRah/pseuds/AkiRah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after saying goodbye to Laura Dannon, Brendan and Brain have gone into business as private investigators.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moon And I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etienne_Bessette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etienne_Bessette/gifts).



> The poem at the end is the second verse from "Song" from The Mikado.  
> This is the edited version of the draft I put on Tumblr.

You said a silent goodbye in the courthouse parking lot. Laura wore black to her own funeral, a mourning veil obscuring her features, her lower lip probably quivering and her eyes red-rimmed. You wore jeans and a t-shirt and your jacket with the torn sleeve from Chuck Burns’ knife. She didn’t so much as look at Brad Bramish (out of Rehab for the trial) and instead fixed her eyes on you. Three rows of cars between you two and you could feel the heat of her skin and almost taste her cigarette smoke. 

She hated you. 

You couldn’t really fault her for that. 

You watched the procession make it’s way into the courthouse. Laura and The Pin and Tug and Brad and a man who was probably Dode’s father. Emily’s mom was still crying. 

That was five years ago. 

It feels weird saying you've “gone into business for yourself” and every time the words stick in your throat for a moment. You have an office now. An office and a private investigator license and Brain, you still have Brain. You will always have Brain. He made sure you knew that when he, in a rare bout of assertion, handed you a key to what would be your apartment when you finally moved in with him. He is your rock and your hard place but you’ll be damned if you ever admit it out loud. 

Five years ago today. Emily is gone, Laura is gone, Kara and Dode and The Pin and Tug and Johnny and Tangles and Trueman. All gone. 

You’re alone again. Eating lunch behind the portables with only Brain beside you. You have a new jacket now. Contacts instead of glasses. But fundamentally, things are the same. 

Brain is standing in the hallway outside your office. He’s fidgeting with a rubix cube, his hobby when he’s stressed. He looks up at you and he doesn't smile. He adjusts his glasses.  
“What is it?”

“Client,” he says, “for you, specifically.” 

“You couldn't call?” 

Brain shakes his head. “I don’t want you to take this job.” 

You frown. You've taken all kinds of jobs and it’s never just you taking them. He’s always included himself. Grammatical proof of the undeniable truth that you two are a matched set. I don’t want to take this job, he’s said before. We shouldn't do this. Never you. 

“They still in there?” 

He nods and stands aside so you can get to the door. 

Cigarette smoke curls into your nose as the hinges squeak open and there’s a rustle of fabric when she stands. Prison wasn't kind to Laura. She’s still beautiful, more so now than you remembered, but her eyes are darker, her expression more closed off. 

You stare for half a heart-beat and then stick your head out the door. “Brain,” you call after his retreating figure. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he replies, waving goodbye without turning. 

He should have said that five years ago. But maybe he did. Maybe you didn't listen. That would be par for the course.

She’s wearing grey. You wonder if she did it on purpose. The grey makes her eyes stand out, makes her look somber and sad and damn it all you know it’s worked. She’s under your skin again and she hasn't even said anything.

You tug your jacket off. A symbolic gesture of casting aside your armor in hopes that she won’t notice how tightly you slam your guard down before she can get any deeper. 

“Not going to say anything?” Laura says, tapping her cigarette out on the carpet and fixing her eyes straight through you. Your mouth is dry. Her lips are ruby red. 

“They let you out.” It sounds weak and forced to your ears but if she notices she doesn’t say anything. 

“A year ago.” She tucks the cigarette back into her mouth. She’d changed her brand. You’re grateful for that. You think about Emily and what Laura did to her and you force yourself not to love her. She killed the only thing you loved, you said it a dozen times.

“What brings you here, Angel?” The nickname tumbles out of your mouth and a small smile creeps to the corner of hers. 

You love her. She knows it. She’s always known it. She knew it before you did. That’s what makes her such a bitch.

“Business,” Laura says quietly. She steps into you and you force your arms to stay at your sides. She smells like roses and soap and cigarette smoke. Her skin is warm when it brushes against yours. You bite back a shiver. “I need your help.”

“Ah.”

“Can you trust me.”

“No, Angel,” you say. The words are true, but meaningless. Brain is in the back of your head begging you not to do it. Not to do what everyone knows you’re about to do. Don’t do it, Brendan. 

You take the kiss Laura offers. Your hands cup her elbows and crush her to you. Her fingers grip your shirt collar. 

“What do you need?”

> Observe his flame,  
>  That placid dame,  
>  The moon's Celestial Highness;  
>  There's not a trace  
>  Upon her face  
>  Of diffidence or shyness:  
>  She borrows light  
>  That, through the night,  
>  Mankind may all acclaim her!  
>  And, truth to tell,  
>  She lights up well,  
>  So I, for one, don't blame her!  
>  Ah, pray make no mistake,  
>  We are not shy;  
>  We're very wide awake,  
>  The moon and I!


End file.
